Everyday Carry

How We Got The Wrong Idea Of What It Means To Be A Man

When I was 13, I received the ultimate tool for my Bar Mitzvah. It was a device capable of slicing open the neck of a renegade Russian spy, amputating a diseased limb or scaling a freshly caught river trout. Yes, my super-deluxe Swiss Army knife, more than an inch wide and loaded with tools and features, was my best friend in a world of creeping, unknown dangers.

I think I’ve used it about twice in the 20-plus years I’ve owned it, and at least one of those times was as a toothpick.

I’m reminded of my knife and its beautiful uselessness whenever I stumble across a certain online subculture. To call them “gadget guys” wouldn’t be quite correct, as I’m not talking about iPhone or Android obsessives (although I’m sure there’s some overlap). No, I’m talking about the kind of guy for whom owning the perfect knife, the most sophisticated flashlight and the perfectly varnished handmade wooden ax is an obsession. What you actually do with the tools is beside the point — it’s all about the pride of owning them. And while I have to admit I’m no stranger to this particular stuff-lust, I have to wonder: Are our tools making us into total tools?

Case in point: A video that was widely mocked around the web a few months ago, created by a group called The Wilderness Collective, a company that leads wilderness trips for men. The video detailed a camping trip taken by a group of extremely earnest, vaguely Christian-seeming young guys, who boasted about braving the wilderness while enjoying artisanal cheeses and fine cocktails at sundown (and who offer to recreate the same experience for thousands of dollars). I couldn’t help notice the uniform way the men in the video were dressed, and when I visited the website, with its slogan “Legendary Adventures for Men,” I noticed a “Supplies” tab where the gang’s expensive leather wallets, solar lights and “hydration packs” (backpacks) could be purchased.

What the Wilderness Collective seems to be saying is, "Hey, if you want to rescue your masculinity, buy all this stuff and come have some fancy cheese with us in the wilderness." It’s a bizarre mixture of insecure masculinity and shopping-lust — as if buying stylish camping goods online could somehow redeem lives spent sitting in front of computer screens rather than chopping wood or laying railroad ties.

These guys are offering to sell you a feeling of innate self-reliance and strength, and that’s a contradiction. Right alongside love and happiness, self-reliance is one of the very few things that can’t be bought. All the Barbour jackets and Redwing boots on earth can’t instill a man with the quiet sense of his own independence that comes from a life lived outdoors. Stuff-lust is the same, whether it’s hand-tooled leather or an Apple TV you’re after.